


A Sudden Impulse

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 06:49:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16258877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: It started with Actor, if you wanted to pinpoint it - Actor, and a sudden impulse on his part.  This story explores the results of that impulse for at least some of our characters.





	A Sudden Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> War years. The reference to Charles Redmond and Lisbon is from the series episode "Deadly Masquerade".

I  
She rarely got even slightly annoyed at Goniff. That was part of what the guys found utterly amazing, since they knew he could sometimes be annoying as holy hell even when he wasn't trying to be, which admittedly he frequently was. No, even his more bizarre antics were likely to get only an amused or indulgent smile from the young redhead, sometimes a puzzled look, and sometimes an amazingly warm and sultry look that made absolutely no sense to anyone.

But now, she was seriously annoyed. No, let's face it, she was pissed as all get out, pissed and hurt! But what had he done? They could see the slender Englishman was as bewildered as they were. If he didn't know what he'd done wrong, how the hell could he make it right???! And he HAD to make it right! They were all agreed on that, made sure when they sent him down to the Cottage to talk it over with her, that he UNDERSTOOD just how important it was. If nothing else, their menu depended upon that! After all, when she cooked or baked for him, which was frequently, she usually shared with them, and she was one hell of a good cook!

"Ruddy 'ell, 'Gaida! Wasn't talking about you, not ever!" he now protested, referring to that aggrieved complaining session she'd walked in on at the Mansion, Goniff giving Chief and Casino a real earful when they'd gotten back from that job he'd had to sit out. Yeah, he'd stopped talking when she walked in, but that was just because she had that treat tin in her hand, not for any other reason. Yes, he'd noticed then that she had an odd look on her face, but he'd never dreamed she'd thought he was saying it was HER who'd made him feel like "a ruddy prisoner to all those books and all that 'igh-brow stuff I didn't give a flip about. Just cramming it down my throat, no matter w'at I said!" 

"Was talking about Actor and 'is nattering on about some dead Greeks! Never meant I was bored with YOU and the reading WE do, never meant I was bored with Kipling, or Mary Chase, or Porter, or Tolken, or Huxley, or any of the others we've been doing! Though I don't care all that much for Faulkner and Lovecraft, but neither did you, and I 'aven't made up my mind about 'emingway yet."

"But still! Aint the same thing, not at all. WE 'ave FUN with the stories, and if we don't, either of us, we put that one aside and start something else. You aint Actor, for pity's sake! You don't sit there smug as all get out, like it's your job to 'enlighten' me, to 'educate' me! You don't drone on and on, til a bloke's either gotta 'obble off to take a piss or go get another drink to make it ruddy well stop, ya know??!"

He was getting as worked up as she'd seen him recently, his frustration seeming to be split between the misunderstanding between the two of them, and the memory of having the very superior Italian lecture him for hours on end.

"Coo, 'Gaida, you can't even imagine! Was awful! Me laid up with that bum knee, 'im with that shoulder and everyone else gone. Didn't just want to leave 'im on 'is own, that didn't seem right; then 'e got to lecturing and I was trapped. Tried to be patient, I did, really. Old 'omer, 'e was alright for the first 'our or two or three; the old guy could really tell a story, you know?? Really liked 'The Odyssey', and 'The Iliad' 'ad some real good parts; 'ell, even liked 'The Frog-Mouse War' when you and I started to read that one together, though we got interrupted by that odd business last November and never got back to it. But then Actor started on Euclid and Archimedes. Why??! I 'aven't a ruddy clue! Now, the Warden, 'e would 'ave found it interesting, most likely, even found a way to use all that on a mission, but me?? Just 'ow often am I gonna need to "define the volume of an irregular object AND have a ruddy big body of water to submerge it in'", ei??? Tried to get 'im back to 'omer, but 'e wasn't 'aving any part of that. Coo, wanted to bash 'im a right good one afore 'e finally wound down!"

And she couldn't help the giggles that burst forth, from HER, mind you, the Dragon, who wasn't inclined to giggling at any time, much less in the middle of an argument. Bless him, he delighted her so! Even when there was some confusion, some miscommunication, he brought such joy to her. She watched as he marched, back and forth, gesturing, making his case, his face a wonder in its many changes, his voice raising and lowering, delivering his arguments, and found her attention focusing more and more on that long lovely length of his neck, his strong jaw line, his sleek, compact body - all drawing her to move closer, much closer.

A crisp, annoyed, "ei, now, are you listening to me, 'Gaida??! Been telling you . . . ".

Whatever he had been telling her was lost in her closeness, and somehow he lost his train of thought once she kissed him at the hollow of his throat, trailed her lips upwards to the base of his ear.

"Ruddy 'ell, 'Gaida," he moaned, "wasn't finished with the argument yet!"

"Later, laddie, later, yes??"

"Well, alright, I spose so," he grumbled, using the very last of his breath as he pulled her into his arms. "Later. Though I doubt I'll remember all the good points I 'ad saved up."

He didn't much like the arguing, not with HER anyway, (though Casino was a totally different story) and was glad it didn't happen very often, but he had to admit, the making up, that was something else.

II

Actor found it so very frustrating; after all, it was obvious the man had the ability to mimic one of the upper classes, as amazing as that was to them all. To the casual observer and even beyond, he had BECOME Charles Redmond, had even been able to stay in character under the pressures of that unexpectedly violent job. Why had he discarded the mannerisms as soon as the job was over?? Why had he not continued with what he had begun? Surely it would be to Goniff's benefit to build on those talents, show the world someone more of Charles Redmond's class and background, not continue to be the brash and irritating, uneducated little Cockney he persisted in displaying! Yes, the man would need some help with that, but Actor was fully confident that HE could help with that transformation. After all, hadn't he done something quite similar for himself, so very many years ago?

Actor had made allowances for the solid working over Goniff had received in Lisbon; well, not just that, but the additional bruises from the car wreck, then that unanticipated tumble down the steps to the Nazi stronghold. He shuddered, remembering that; they were lucky the pickpocket hadn't gotten a broken neck in that unexpected move. But now, Goniff had healed, was moving well, the bruises all but faded away; yet every time Actor reached out a hand, metaphorically speaking, it had been rejected with a laugh, or a shrug - a complete dismissal of the idea, the project Actor thought to put in place. He remembered one of those occasions quite well.

**"I realize it would be unwise to make a character change right now, of course. It would only confuse the military, and frankly make them overly suspicious. But there is after the war, Goniff! Think of the future! Once we are released from our agreement, sent on our way, there is nothing that says you have to REMAIN Goniff Grainger! With the proper documents and a change in 'character', you could have a very different life! You know we have the sources for the documents, for building you an entirely new background. You could become someone much more like a Sir Charles Redmond! Why are you being so resistant??!"

Goniff had just sniffed in disdain at the whole idea, "and w'at about Mum? Aunt Moll? W'at about 'Gaida? Just supposed to forget about them, am I? Sides, that little bit of acting was one thing; trying to make it real? Naw, that's not me. Leave off, Actor, find some other 'obby, ei?"**

Then, that last mission, the one where Goniff had wrenched his knee pushing Casino out of the way of that Geman guard's bullet; the mission where Actor had taken a knife to the shoulder. It wasn't the first time Goniff had put himself in harm's way for one of the others, and that selflessness had gotten Actor to thinking once again about how there was more to the little pickpocket than was first apparent - made him think, yet again, how MUCH more he might be capable of, with a little help. The event had put the both of them out of commission for awhile, made it necessary for them to watch, glum and worried, while Garrison, Chief and Casino headed out to work alone on a job that, as always, promised to be 'just a piece of cake'. 

Actor had taken the opportunity of their mutual less-than-mobile status to enhance the Englishman's education. For awhile it seemed as if Goniff was reasonably receptive. Well, Homer appealed to a wide range of audiences, and was a good place to start. The pickpocket had even seemed to enjoy the resulting discussion, had surprisingly little difficulty with the pronunciations or keeping the stories and the characters straight in the lively discussion that followed, even had a few interesting insights.

But, Actor found to his annoyance, once he moved into a different area of Greek knowledge, Goniff got a glazed look and kept trying to move the subject back to Troy and Circe and anything but what Actor was trying to teach him - ah, no, he must remember, he wasn't trying to 'teach', only perhaps have an 'entertaining discussion'. He rather thought the Englishman might resent the concept of being 'taught' by anyone, especially Actor.

Still, that knee had been of some benefit, keeping Goniff in one spot long enough to at least listen. {"Perhaps if I continue to do that, eventually he will see the benefit of an educated mind,"} Actor sighed. But after that night, it seemed Goniff made a point of keeping his distance, not letting himself be cornered. In fact, last night, Goniff had disappeared early, before the Italian could even begin, claiming to be 'godawful sleepy, Actor. Gonna turn in early." Actor had taken a disbelieving look at that clock but by the time he turned to respond, the little Englishman was gone.

Actor shook his head, remembering how it had been for him. He'd been born with little, except for his patrician looks, and those obviously not coming from his supposed father, though he did have his mother's eyes. He'd been scarcely more than a boy when his worn-down mother had slipped him the small pouch with all she'd managed to put aside, letting him know his future was in his own hands now.

"Go, caro. There is no future for you here. You have the blood of the fidalgo, the aristos, in your veins, but you must fight to make your own place among them. Fight, my son, become as they are; no, become MORE than they are! Do not return; there is no place for you here!"

When he had returned, a full twelve years later, there had only been the marker in the local graveyard to mark her ever having existed, and that marker had made no mention of a son. 

Well, he had done what she had ordered him to do. He'd fought for his place in life, but more importantly, he had grown, had LEARNED, had sought out sources for that learning, took advantage of every opportunity to become what she'd told him he could, should become. It had not been easy, it had cost him much, far more than he ever wanted to acknowledge, but gradually he had become the man he was today. He could look in the mirror with pride, thinking that price well worth what he now saw, a gentleman of sophistication; furthermore, one capable of transforming himself into whoever he wanted, needed to be, at any time. 

Now, the offer to help another make such strides was being rejected, and since this was the first time he'd ever even had the urge, it was disheartening. How could Goniff be content with who he was, when he could become another 'Redmond'? Heaven knows there were enough of them out there; no one would likely notice another one joining the field, not questioning his presence, not as long as he had the proper manner, the proper background in place. Probably someplace other than London would be best, of course, but the world was wide; he could attest to that personally.

He'd thought to enlist Meghada in the effort, but somehow, he'd hesitated; trying to explain to her how Goniff could be 'more, better' seemed problematic, since she seemed to be quite accepting of him the way he was. Well, that made no sense to Actor and never had; she was well-educated, that was obvious; how could she just accept him wanting so little out of life?

Surely Goniff had told her of Actor's offer; why wouldn't she have encouraged him to accept? How, why, she wouldn't see that he would be so much better off if he only listened, only became that copy of Charles Redmond that he'd become for that one mission? Of course, he considered, maybe she'd not heard the story about Charles Redmond and the role Goniff had played; it WAS one of the ones marked Top Secret, since it involved treason by one of the aristocracy, one of a family well situated in the military, governmental and societal realms.

{"Yes, that must be it; he must not have told her, perhaps not about any of it. And if he told her of my offer, she might brush it aside, thinking it an impossibility. Yes, that must be it. She just needs to hear the whole story, understand he IS capable of that."} So he determined to do that very thing the next time they were together. Oh, not the rest of the team, not even Garrison - it would probably be best if no one else knew, especially if Goniff decided to switch identities later. 

His big mistake, if you want to call it that, was to tell Goniff of his intentions, though only a few minutes before Meghada was due to arrive at the Mansion with her latest basket of treats. Well, it was an ideal opportunity; the others were occupied elsewhere, wouldn't be overhearing any of the discussion. 

But the minute she'd stepped into the library, Goniff had taken control.

"Ei, 'Gaida. Think you could show Actor that shadow-dance thing? There's enough room in 'ere, and all the other stuff you could use," he exclaimed, eagerly, but with a sly look in his eyes as he glanced over at Actor.

The tall Italian was bemused. {"Shadow-dance? What on earth is he talking about?"}

Meghada was obviously bewildered, too; well, it was hardly what you'd expect to be asked just as you walk in the door, especially when you have a basket of goodies over your arm. The day Goniff didn't head right for the food, something was up.

She gave him a long look, then nodded slowly, "aye, if you want," and Goniff enthusiastically assured her, all shining innocence, that "I really do; think 'e might find it educational; you know 'ow 'e is about stuff being 'educational' and all." Actor knew he was being set up, but hadn't a clue as to how or why, or what this was supposed to accomplish. Ah, well, he'd wait and find out, then go ahead with his plan.

She got their help in moving the furniture back against the wall, leaving more of an open space in the center, explaining this was a training exercise she'd used for years, and then, to Actor's bemusement, she collected various of the weapons from around the room - the rapier and long sword from one wall, a staff and spear from another, even the glaive perched in one of the big ceramic jars in the corner. Discarding her shoes and socks, then her shirt, leaving her in only a thin undershirt and trousers, she stood in the center of the room, head bowed, centering herself. Then, she began to move, slowly, gradually increasing the speed. A shadow-dance, Goniff had called it, and Actor could see it was rightly named, for he could now see that she was dancing, her shadow on the wall keeping in perfect pace. He could almost hear drum beats marking out the time. As the intensity increased, the dance took her within arm's length of first one weapon, then another, and the weapons became part of the dance, the dance became a battle, her against her shadow. 

"Look at 'er, Actor. Ruddy magnificent, she is," Goniff had breathed in a low voice, and Actor had to agree. At times, the movements came so fast, were so life-like, one could almost imagine that shadow taking solid form, fighting back with the sword, or the staff or whatever she held in her hand. She ended with the glaive, the long staff with the wicked curved metal blade at the end, coming to a shuddering halt as the weapon seemingly pierced and defeated that shadow, somehow twisting at the last minute so that the shadow simply disappeared. Replacing the glaive in that ceramic jar, she turned, facing them, breathing heavily, a film of sweat covering her face, her undershirt soaked through.

Actor sat, stunned into silence at the display.

"Coo, Actor, aint she something else??!" Then Goniff gave a deep chuckle, "come 'ere, luv."

Meghada shook her head, protesting, "I'm a mess, let me go get cleaned up," but the invitation became a more firm, "COME 'ERE, 'Gaida."

Actor just watched in bemusement as she did just that, dropping to her knees beside Goniff's chair, smiling up at him, watched as Goniff leaned forward, reached out his hand to cup the back of her head and pull her in for a long, deep kiss. Leaning back again, he used one finger to trace the line of her lower lip while he spoke.

"Actor 'ere, 'e says 'e can teach me to be a toff; 'ad to do it once on a job, seems to 'ave impressed our expert 'ere. Be a lotta work, no doubt, but could move in right along with the toffs w'en 'e's finished, become one a them after the war, leave 'Goniff' behind once and for all."

Meghada gave Actor an odd look, and he hastened to reassure her, "he DOES have the capability; though, as he says, it will take a great deal of effort on his part. He handled that one role quite well, once he settled in to it." 

Goniff chuckled, "w'at do you think, 'Gaida? Think I got the makings of a toff?"

That look had become even more unreadable, carefully neutral, but somehow her words weren't quite what Actor had been expecting.

"You have the 'makings' of whatever you want to be, laddie; I think you know that quite well. I certainly do."

Goniff's face held a look of triumph as he cocked one arrogant brow at Actor. Turning back to the young woman, he asked, "you always said you'd follow after, search for me if I got lost somewhere. W'at if I wasn't lost, as such? W'at if I just switched over to being a toff, living in with the lot of them? Would you follow there too, right to the middle of society?"

There was silence, then she reached out one hand to touch his hand, gently, and her voice came out slow, her words measured, "if that's what you want, if that's where you want to be, of course I'll follow."

She got just a little bit of a worried look, and she looked at him earnestly, "you won't make me drink champagne, will you? Or sit for hours making 'polite conversation'? Because I'm really not very good at all that; I wouldn't want to embarrass you, not after you making all the effort."

She paused again, her voice even more hesitant, "is that what you want, Goniff? To be one of the toffs?" and despite her apparent willingness to go along with whatever he decided, still it was obvious what her true feelings were.

Somehow the roar of delighted laughter from the Englishman was pretty much what a resigned Actor had been expecting.

"Naw, can't say as I do; doubt I'd fancy it much after all. Maybe a visit every now and then, but not to stay. Just enough to do a job for the Warden, maybe. Maybe just enough to take you dancing someplace nice, ei? Not often, probably; don't like showing you off to the toffs in those fancy dresses Coura makes for you; might give them ideas, you know? Wouldn't 'ave the patience for that; could get messy."

Actor sat shaking his head as she leaned in to meet Goniff halfway, them getting lost in a kiss once again.

They were long gone, Meghada back to the Cottage, Goniff taking his turn, under protest, on the obstacle course under the scolding voice of Sergeant Major Rawlins.

Actor sat back, pipe in hand, thinking about his own journey once again, and the women he'd left behind when opportunities for new experiences, new growth had presented themselves. {"Serafina - she was my first love, the daughter of a fisherman. I remember the stench of that fishing boat, her father's leathery skin, his ruined hands; I remember wondering how long would it take me working on his boat before I'd look much the same. I left her behind when Marco agreed to take me on as a copyist; it was from his library and his conversation that I came to know, studied Homer, and Shakespeare, and all the others of literary renown. I stayed til Marco died three summers later; I swore I would have as fine a library myself one day. Claudine - ah, sweet Claudine. I stayed there, clerking in her father's business, learning how a man of his position behaved, playing small parts in the local theatre, until I was given a chance to understudy with that traveling theatrical group; their make-up artist was truly an artiste, a true master of disguises - I learned so much from him. Marie - a true lady if not quite so young anymore, more than willing to teach a much younger man the ways of society in exchange for my attentions. I learned much from her, before I moved on."} 

His thoughts went on and on, woman by woman, women he'd loved, in one manner or another; women he had left behind as he pursued the goal his mother had given him. Higher and higher he'd gone, eventually welcomed in the best of circles, even if under a multitude of different names, none of them his own. And with each step, the goal became more and more important, the women now being pleasurable pastimes but no more. Never had he asked one of them to go with him, to live his life with him. He'd known he would never reach his goal that way, and the goal was too important.

That was what he had failed to successfully impart to the Englishman, the importance of that goal, that the sacrifice would be well worth it in the end. Why was the stubborn little man not listening??!

His pipe was dying down, and he refreshed it glumly, shaking his head once again in frustration at their teammate, just brushing aside the opportunity to better himself, become what he had the potential of being.

{"He doesn't understand! He can't! He could pass for a Redmond easily enough with just a little work! Why, he could come to appear almost as knowledgeable, as sophisticated as Charles Redmond!"} and a sudden chill had him checking for an open window, remembering just where all that knowledge and sophistication had led that member of high society - a bullet in a dark wet street, payment for his treachery. 

He forced his mind back to the matter at hand. {"With some work, if he focused, Goniff could become . . ."}

He slumped, then, surrendering to the truth sitting in front of him in the mirror - put the pipe aside, lay his head against the back of the chair and admitted to himself what he would never admit to anyone else. {"He could become perhaps as detached, as lonely as I have become."} The chill intensified and he suppressed a shudder.

Now, remembering the warmth and ease obviously shared between the redhead and their pickpocket, he knew he would no longer press Goniff on any major transformation. Oh, perhaps urging a few improvements here and there, but nothing major, nothing that would involve sacrificing what their pickpocket now held in his grasp, something Actor was certain HE would never have. He relit his pipe, feeling his frustration melt away, being replaced by an odd combination of wistfulness and envy.

III  
Hell, every time I turn around, it's something. Maybe the Warden is off on a new tangent. Gonna blow up this bridge, gonna snatch that general, gonna do SOMETHING that anyone with any sense would just shake their heads and say, "not gonna happen". But him? Hell, he just looks at it all and says, "okay, let's go for it." Drives me frickin crazy sometimes, ya know??! Gonna get us all killed one a these days, then most likely expecting our ghosts to take up the job. Can hear him now, "there's a job to be done! We can't let a little thing like being dead stop us! Come on, Casino, get with the program!!" Ya try and tell him it won't work, the plan's too risky, he just looks at you like YER the one who's nuts! Well, at least he used to; he's getting better at listening than he was at first. Still . . .

Take this last job. Supposed to be a little walk in the park. Shit, for every time I've heard THAT one! And us being down two men, that really helped, ya know? There was Beautiful, out with that shoulder wound, Goniff laid up with a bum knee. Well, at least we didn't have to listen to Beautiful telling us all about the 'provenance' of that painting we had to grab to get at the microfilm tucked up behind the brass plate on the front. Hell, like who cares who painted it, who used to own it??? Grab what we came for and let's get the hell outta there before the guards get wise! Acourse, the Warden, he decides we gotta see what's in that safe the Krauts were so anxious we not get near, and nearly got himself knifed. Well, of course he did! Missed him by an inch I figure. And, yeah, so we didn't have to worry about keeping Goniff and his sticky fingers away from that little collection of trinkets off in that glass case in the corner, which considering how sparkly and shiny some of them were, well, it woulda happened, no question. And doubt Chief would have spotted that second alarm system in time to keep the little thief from bringing the whole building down on us. 

But, it aint the same, running a job without them, ya know? Didn't help that the reason the little Limey wasn't with us was him pushing me outta the way of that German guard's rifle. Didn't get himself shot, but sure knocked him out cold along with tearing up his knee. Acourse, Beautiful, he'd done the same, pretty much, for the Warden, dodged in front, took a knife meant for our fearless leader. (Used to be bullets, but now it seems he's decided to branch out - bullets, knives, explosions - if there's a way to get himself bloodied, I swear the Warden'll find it!) Made their not being there, well, don't know about Chief and the Warden, but I'd find myself thinking about it, more than once. And not just cause of them getting hurt, but it had made me realize all over again how much our lives depended on each other. If there were five of us, and still two got bunged up trying to keep a couple of the others alive, what did that say to our odds when it was just the three of us to begin with??

So there we were, the three of us, trying to get the job done, with part of our minds going back over that LAST job. That aint healthy - you know that, I know that, we all know that, but there we were. Still, we got it done, got back, and what do we get? Grief, that's what! We were a day late; the stuff from the safe was in a code they hadn't seen before and we shoulda brought the code book (though where the hell we were supposed to come up with that, I don't know!). To top it all off, the microfilm was fuzzy. Hell, what did that have to do with us? We risk our necks to pick it up and deliver it, but we gotta sit there and listen while they try to figure out how WE messed it up! Freaking HQ! 

Then, we get back to the Mansion, and there's Beautiful in a snit about Goniff being 'unwilling to even try and better himself', and Goniff having a hissy about Beautiful and his snooty ways, 'poking and prodding, nattering on about some dead Greeks. Didn't pay 'im to lecture me, I didn't; you ask me, 'e should 'ave to pay me for sitting there listening to 'im drone on and on! Aint like I didn't 'ave better things to do, ya know! Coulda washed my 'air, maybe trimmed my toenails!' 

Well, Actor stalked off, his nose in the air, all offended. Goniff was still going on with his complaining about being force-fed all that highfalutin stuff, and then Meghada walked in with her basket that always seemed to hold something damned good to eat. Don't know what set HER off, but you could tell something did; her smile disappeared real fast - she didn't stick around, and seemed really put out by the time she DID leave. Got the feeling that might be the last basket we see for awhile.

Well, don't know what the little Limey did to piss her off, didn't see anything that shoulda, but me and the Indian, we cornered him and set him straight, gave him his marching orders. He was to go down there and talk to her and make it right, and damned fast too. Told him flat out, "Look, ya dumb Limey, you fix this and you fix this now! Me and Chief and the Warden, we been out there for a week eatin mostly bread and cheese along with a mouthful of mud now and then. Not gonna have your nonsense keep us from having something decent on the table! She stays pissed at you, she aint gonna cook, she aint gonna bake, and WE'RE stuck with K-rations again!"

Well, at least that turned out alright; still don't know what the problem was, but he showed up at four in the morning, all lazy-eyed, grinning like a damned fool, with the promise of good things to come. 

Sure enough, the redhead shows up mid-morning, smile on her face as usual, with a kettle full of stew, a covered bowl of cabbage slaw, and a big pan of cornbread, along with a berry cobbler. Like I said, never knew what the problem was, but Goniff sure got her in a better mood!

If you ask me, that whole thing with the two a them is weird, like watching a canary and a crocodile cuddling up to each other. Don't make any sense, probably never will. We don't worry about it any more, though; it works out real good for us. Not just the food, ya know, but, well, she's taken our side more than once, and that's made a difference. There's been a time or two, it's made ALL the difference.

So, some things have gone wrong, some turned around and headed back right again. Don't expect that to last, though - the going right, I mean. Just saw the Warden coming in, briefcase cuffed to his wrist, that look on his face again. Maybe they want us to snatch old Fat Hermann, along with putting a wire tap on Hitler's country cottage. Who knows, but one thing's for sure - the Warden's gonna have a plan. He always does. Gonna get us all killed one a these days, him and his plans.


End file.
